2 cokes 1 sprite

My teacher emailed me to ask me if I could bring in something for an end-of-semester potluck party for the class. I really struggled with what to bring. I emailed her back- "Pop?" She said "Great, Thanks!"

I felt really uncomfortable with my decision. What is this third grade? "I'll bring pop!" Stupid, I'm so stupid. Why did I say that?

I have had such low self esteem lately that the simple act of bringing a beverage to a classroom party sent me into a tailspin. I went to the 7-11 and almost started crying. Do people even drink pop? Is that totally stupid? And what do I pick out? Coke? Diet Coke? It all started seeming so ridiculous to me.

I chose to buy 2 Coke and 1 Sprite 2 liters. Would people laugh at my choices? It just seemed so ridiculous. "What's with the Sprite, dork?"

I went to class and had my bags of coca cola and sprite and 2 sleeves of styrofoam cups. Jesus Christ! Big fat Styrofoam cups. "Nice cups, asshole. Why'd you get THESE." I wanted to put the bags on a table and sit down quickly so no one would notice what idiot brought them in. There was no table. I had to sit with my two bags at my desk.

Eventually, we set out all the bags of chips and assorted junk food on desks that were pushed together. People started making little plates of chips and to my surprise they started filling their cups with coke and sprite. No one cackled in laughter. No one said "Whoever brought the coke is really stupid!" People simply drank the coke.

I looked around after awhile and many people had styrofoam cups filled with what I bought at the 7-11. They didn't seem to think it was abnormal or stupid in anyway.

It was seriously one of the nicest things that happened all week.

as if i never said goodbye

had a bad dream about being in a cult. then i had another bad dream that they were making special madonna "confessions on a dancefloor" cigarettes. they had the album cover on the box and the cigarettes were purple. i was really angry because the clerk would not let me buy them for some reason. i was furious.

had easter brunch with my family at the pheasant run resort in st. charles. it was very nice in a suburban vacation desination sort of way. they had a petting zoo for the kids in the parking lot. my three nephews fed chickens and ducks and lots of other vague barnyard animals. goats? sheep? was that a donkey or some sort of retarted horse? anyway, made me want to go on vacation.

the last "vacation" i went on was with Kara to minneapolis for a spoken word convention/festival. this was about 3 years ago. we were to read stuff that we had written at different places in minneapolis. one was a coffee shop with about three people watching. i was out of my mind nervous. i got up to read and i was literally having a seizure, shaking so bad. very funny because it was seriously like reading to three people at a very empty starbucks. i was booked for another "gig" but i cancelled it. that was the last time i "performed" in public (not counting my speech class). the highlight for me was seeing the statue of mary tyler moore throwing her hat up in the air, and we went to a drag show that was pretty good.

i would really like to go to new york in may and see peter and the new sandra bernhard show. also would like to visit heather in arizona. if i had lots of money i would love to take my whole family to disneyworld. i do get very homesick on vacation s. i always want to cut it short.

also, i dont like flying.

cry a little

You've got a real choice to make mister. You've had early morning therapy that was semi-sucessful. Now you want to go back to bed, hide. You could do that and probably get away with it.

Or, you could get your ass outside in the cold. Bundle up, do it. Do some grocery shopping while you have the money. Maybe stop at a thrift store on the way there. Just get outside.

Then come home and if you're feeling a little better work on some homework. The choice is up to you. I can't tell you what to do.

ergophobia

High hopes yesterday. Felt like I was back in the work force, waiting for the train. Anne Welles in the beginning of the "Valley of The Dolls." I don't know what I thought I'd be doing. Sitting at a big oak desk in the sixties answering calls and filing my nails, looking fabulous and being taken out to lunch.

The job was to transcribe, by hand, educational and employment histories (printed out from websites) of lawyers from various law firms. Then these transcriptions were to be used to headhunt. While I read the histories of these lawyers, many who were much younger than I was, I was sometimes depressed, but often just intrigued. Some had pictures, confident looking young men and women, just graduated from law school- ready for a big sexy lawyerly well-dressed world. Futures bright as shiny dimes.

My hand hurt. My back hurt. I remedied this by resting my hand on a big law book as I wrote.

I tried to get into some sort of rhythm, system. Write down what firm they were currently working for, which states they were admitted to practice law, their graduation dates, any honors received, any extra languages they spoke, employment histories. Then, staple the printout from the web to the cover sheet (on which I transcribed their information) and move on to the next one. A stack of printouts the size of two phone books.

They let me listen to my iPod. This was very nice. Even so, the door was closed three times so I could not hear whatever it was I was not supposed to hear. I was reminded twice that this information I was working with and the job I was doing was confidential. One time I was told that the reason the door was closed was because they were firing an employee. An employee I was introduced to minutes earlier.

I can't describe it and am not looking for any sympathy for this 'disorder' I have. Anxiety I guess. I decide that yes, yes, I must go. I will need to leave now. Go. Go. Leave. Goodbye.

Downstairs for a cigarette, talking to my mom on my cell.

"I think I'm going to just call my temp agency and tell them that 'this job isn't for me and I'm sorry I committed for a week and I hope I haven't created a problem by canceling at such short notice."

She says that's ridiculous and that I need to lighten up and it's not for life- it's for food and money until I go back to school, and where do I think I'm getting my money from? She is correct on all points.

I can't explain to her how much it hurts. Wanting to cry, I am short with a goodbye to her. Go up to my office and take a klonopin. "Just sit here. Stay here. It is money. You need money. It. Is. Not. The. End. Of. The. World." Tell that too my nervous system.

Finished out the day. Got home, went to bed.

Woke up feeling ok. Got on the train and it all comes back. Text messaged Kara.

Me:
"All right, well I'll try this again. Butitellya-- i dont like it one bit"
"I got a mental illness here"

Kara:
"Hang in there, Madonna WOULD do it"

Sat back down at my desk, began transcribing. A monk in khakis with coffee stains.
Ok for a little while.

Then I decide, sure of myself and calm, that I will take a cigarette break and leave. I take my building pass out of my pocket and place it on the faux wood desk (so I wont have to come back to drop it off). Make sure to have my phone and my iPod in my jacket. I tell the receptionist that I'm going out to have a cigarette (nice that they even let me have cigarette breaks at all). Go down the elevator, on to the street, on to the train and come home. Semi-psychotic in simplicity, vanishing forever on a smoke break.

I call the temporary agency and leave a message explaining what I should have explained the day before. They call me back and leave a message asking me to call them back. Why even bother. I left my job on a smoke break, are we going to find a way to make this workable? I call him back, explaining what happened. He listens to my explanation and is short with a goodbye. More or less what I expected.

The problem wasn't the job. It was more or less like any job. The problem was me. I don't think I am incapable of being a productive person. I just have some sort of thing that makes me feel like I need to ESCAPE. NOW. I knew when I got there that this would happen and I shouldn't and couldn't be there. Not there, not right now, for one reason or another.

"Maybe try again tomorrow." -Alica Nash, A Beautiful Mind

better the devil you know

So, It's 5 in the am. I have another frigging speech to give. God Bless America, why do I get so nervous? I have been OBSESSING about it. What is the big deal? I would rather get on a plane with only one working engine than do this.

And, it's never really that bad, the closer I get to actually doing it. Once I'm in the classroom I'm usually ok (knock on wood). It's the week leading up to it that I can't sleep or do dishes or even look at the speech itself. It's like this terrible OCD thing I get into. Like I refuse to do things until after the speech. I will only do the dishes AFTER THE SPEECH. I will only go out and enjoy myself AFTER THE SPEECH. I torture myself. Cukoooooo!!

All the Lexapro in the world can't handle this one.

I remember on the el I saw some woman with a bag of cleaning products and she kept spraying some sort of product in the air and on the seat and then wiping down her hands with another product. She was terribly disheveled and crazy looking and just out of her mind- but she had to keep up spraying and wiping down, spraying and wiping down. What memory or image or invisible germ was she trying to clean away?

I don't do that but I do sleep for ridiculous amounts of time when I'm trying to avoid something.

I slept from 4 AM Saturday night until about 5 PM on Sunday
Got up ordered Jimmy Johns, watched the Simpsons
Went back to bed at about 8 PM
Got up at about 11 PM and have been up, in some form or another since then.

And it's all because of this speech. Then I get to a point where I don't have the energy or interest to care about it anymore.

I would go back to a therapy, but I dont know- I think I have gone to that school, enjoyed it, learned A LOT and graduated. There is only so much that talking about my past and my quirks and my destructive behavior is going to do.

"Fake it until you make it"-- Kara always says.

So, at 7 AM I will get my bag together, throw on another wonderful outfit from The Jeremy Wells Collection, put on my iPod and listen to the playlist I titled "DONE!" and just fake it. Pretend I'm ok with it all and maybe I will be.

Songs on "Done!" playlist and selected quotes...


Make Me Famous- Bette Midler
(Bette Midler speaking to God from Isn't She Great)
"CUT THE CRAP, no more bullshit! Here's the deal..I keep going, but you start helping! I can't do everything myself! C'mon! Get on the phone! NOW! Make...ME...Famous!!"

I Bow Out- Whitney Houston
"I Bow Out"

Not all me- Alanis Morissette
"It's not all me, It's not all my fault, I may remind you, but I won't take it all on"

There Won't Be Trumpets- Bernadette Peters
"Those smug little men with their smug little schemes, They forgot one thing:
The play isn't over by a long shot yet!"

I Miss You- Blink 182
"We can live like Jack and Sally if we want, Where you can always find me
And we'll have Halloween on Christmas"

Cool- Gwen Stefani
"And it's such a miracle that you and me are still good friends
After all that we've been through, I know we're cool"

Better Days- Janet Jackson
"Leavin' old shit behind, And move on with my life
The blindfold's off my eyes, And now all I see for me is better days"

Nothing Fails- Madonna
"Nothing fails, No more fears, Nothing fails"

Isaac- Madonna
"Remember, remember, never forget, All of your life has all been a test
You will find the gate that's open, Even though your spirit's broken"

Recovery- Olivia Newton-John
"When I go wrong as people do, There's only me to answer to,
Nobody here to bring me down, No feelings I need step around
Trouble and care are waiting out there, But I'm alright, I'm safe tonight"

Miserabilism- Pet Shop Boys
"Deny that happiness is open as an option, And disappointment disappears overnight"

The Arms Of Orion- Prince With Sheena Easton
"God only knows where you are tonight, Maybe time will tell me,
Till then I'll close my eyes"

Hollywood U.S.A.- RuPaul
"Packin up, givin in, I can't win, Going back to start over again"

Two Door Downs- Me'Shell N'Degeocello
"Cause I cant stay inside this lonely room and cry forever.
I think Id really rather join em two doors down."

The Best- Tina Turner
"Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams
Speak the language of love like you know what it means"

Running Back To You- Vanessa Williams
"Let's go."

oh lord

mama didnt sleep tonight. i have this damn speech class that's really getting my goat. i have avoided this class throughout my college career. i have a lot of trouble giving speeches, even though im fine with acting and improv and stuff.

i hate it! but i have decided to just be myself. if for example, im going to give a persuasive speech on the need for health insurance for all Americans (which i have to do)- im going to talk about how i have a bit of a medical fetish and how i wish that i had top of the line health insurance so i could have really hot doctor who would prescribe me top drawer medications and perhaps we would fall in love...

or that id have such good health insurance that i could go to a rehab center like meryl streep in postcards from the edge and id have shirley maclaine as a mother and "the guy who pumped my stomach" would ask me out on a date.

i just cant get up and list statistics and talk about things in that way that people do when they give speeches. i wish i could- i just dont know how to write or speak like that.

you cant teach an old dog new tricks. you cant get blood from a turnip. its hard for me to write without adding my personal experience (whether its entertaining or not). its columbia college for gods sake! cant i make a diorama out of a shoe box or give an interpretive dance?

i was all ready to just skip the class today. but i WOULD NOT allow that to happen. thats a slippery slope, missing classes. so i wrote a (very retarted) outline for the speech thats due next week and i got my informal discussion speech ready for today-- which consists of a coke vs. pepsi taste test- which andy said was "very 1986." exactly. that is where i am stuck.

reading my book

For my class on The Holocaust, we have been assigned to read Primo Levi's Survival in Auschwitz.

I have been avoiding reading it for awhile. I've been carrying it around, thinking perhaps, that i will start reading it on a boring bus ride or while waiting for something. It's not one of those books, though. You don't just casually pull it out and start reading. It has been haunting me, even before I opened it.

When I finally started it, I felt myself trying to disconnect from it. My brain kind of going into denial- as if it was just a Stephen King story.

I didn't think I would get scared by it. I've read a few books on The Holocaust. It is so crazy how numb you get to it.

Up until now, we've been learning about how The Holocaust happened, Hitler, what the political climate was in Germany, etc. That is all much more palatable. To read the day to day experience of someone who was there is different. Don't like it.

I also became aware of how I have a personal concentration camp in my head. When I read about it, things are always set up the same. The bunks, the camp, what it looks like and sounds like at night when the inmates are sleeping- always the same.

One of the buildings or a building always looks similar to this factory (or some sort of industrial building) in Crystal Lake off of Rte. 31 near Rte. 14. That has always fascinated me- how we (or I) asimmilate things in stories to things we know- the "sets" we construct for stories that we are reading to take place in. Often stories take place a lot in my childhood or (strangely) in my friend Heather's house.

Forgive me if I quote Bette Midler again:

"The truth is scarrier by far
than anything that Stephen King could write."

on the way to the dentist

Sit like you're a man when you're at the Western train stop. When there are men with missing teeth saying they "...didn't get out of jail till two o'clock this morning," sit with your leg resting on your knee, not crossed like a faggot.

Speaking of missing teeth. Remember to brush and floss your teeth everyday and night. Be obsessive about it, so you won't have to be sitting at the Western Metra station on your way to your sister's dentist in Franklin Park. You won't have to borrow fifty dollars from your sister for a consultation to see just how bad the damage is.

I don't ever want to go to jail. I don't ever want to end up with people like this. Now they're talking about the military. I don't want to go into the military either. Tossing around words like Taliban and Saudis. They don't know what the hell they're talking about, no one does. No teeth man says to his African American friend, "You ever seen the movie, uh, uh, Black Hawk Down?" No I haven't, and I don't want to -- thank you. I am not included in the conversation, thankfully. Escaping into candy coated Gwen Stefani.

The lighter I am using has the telltale signs of a pot smoker. I don't know why it gets all black on the bottom- is it for "packing bowls?" All I know is that means that someone has been using it for pot smoking. I wonder from which friend I stole this. Which of my friends has been smoking pot with a white lighter. Sounds like bad luck if you ask me.

Now I sit more faggoty. It's too hot to pretend I'm straight. Too hot to sit like a man.

A bee floats from bench to bench and lands on my coffee cup briefly.

fear

i don't want to take away from the brilliance of Ann's post. but i think this is so fascinating, I have to do it. my new years resolution was to not be so afraid. so here is an incomplete list of things that i am or have been afraid of in my life:

-the wicked witch of the west creeping around my backyard at night, looking in through my bedroom window
-my parents and sister being robots
-telling my mom that i got my name on the board in first grade
-boys
-friend's fathers
-my parents never coming home
-airplane crashes (but i have an airplane crash movie fetish)
-barbara mandrell dying
-public bathrooms (especially at grade school)
-lunchroom at high school (went to my grandma's for lunch)
-patty harms
-the el train im riding in sliding off the track in the subway, becoming unhooked, and getting smashed up like its in a trash compacter
-being arrested
-eating something and finding out it has mushrooms in it
-aids
-lsd
-marijuana
-becoming addicted to heroin or cocaine, etc
-getting bad grades in college
-my parents dying
-not having cigarettes
-lung cancer
-friends being mad at me
-somehow forgetting how to drive while i'm driving
-choking
-losing my wallet (thus, the chain)